post-game

The light of the crescent moon penetrates the bedroom curtains and bathes the walls and furniture in an eerie blue glow. The inconsiderate ticking of the old alarm clock reverberates around the room as its hands turn relentlessly toward the small hours. Gallin lays on his back, hands tucked...

Gallin takes a final look at his watch, puts his whistle to his pursed lips and calls the match to an end. He breathes a short and inconspicuous sigh of relief following a relatively incident-free game. ‘Cheers, ref,’ Blue Number Seven says with an outstretched arm. He clasps Gallin’s hand...